


running on empty

by avalonjoan



Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [17]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, College Student Adam Parrish, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dysfunctional Family, Easter, Fainting, Fasting, Hospitals, Injury, M/M, No graphic injuries, Paramedic Ronan Lynch, Religious fasting, Roman Catholicism, Sickfic, the moment you've been waiting for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avalonjoan/pseuds/avalonjoan
Summary: Adam expected Ronan to turn, leave the living room, and go upstairs to their bedroom.Instead, Ronan took about two steps, paused, and collapsed onto the rug.--Ronan blacks out. Adam handles it well. Declan doesn't.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: Henrietta: without magic, with medical careers [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971451
Comments: 35
Kudos: 140





	1. Chapter 1

Ronan had asked Adam to come back to Virginia for Easter, and while Adam wasn’t particularly into the whole Catholicism thing, he _was_ particularly into Ronan. It was important enough to Ronan and inconvenient enough for Adam that they’d agreed he would fly home, which felt decadent and unnecessary and was infinitely more comfortable than driving. It had only been a month since they’d seen each other for spring break, but Adam couldn’t help but run to the curb outside the arrival terminal and pull Ronan into his arms. School was great; it was almost the end of sophomore year and he’d made some close friends that he was planning on living with next fall, but he still missed Ronan every single day.

His flight had gotten in late at night—he’d had an afternoon class that he couldn’t miss—so they slept in on Friday, waking only when the room was bright enough that staying asleep wasn’t an option. They fucked (because Adam was still trying to make up for all the sex they didn’t have when he’d been sick with mono over winter break), then slept for just a little longer until Adam absolutely couldn’t wait another moment to eat.

“My stomach’s digesting itself, Lynch,” he said, trying to wrestle his way free from Ronan, who was pretending to still be asleep. “Let me go.” Opening one eye, Ronan frowned, but released Adam all the same. “What do you want for food?”

Ronan shook his head. “It’s Good Friday.” It took Adam a moment to realize what Ronan was saying—in his defense, it had been a good Friday for both of them so far—but still didn’t understand what that had to do with breakfast. He tilted his head, and Ronan went on, “It’s a fast day.”

Ah. He remembered Ronan saying something a while back about fasting for Ash Wednesday, but Adam had been at school so it hadn’t really registered with him. The whole idea of willful deprivation didn’t make sense (and he had decided that spending years turning down Gansey’s offers to gift or buy him things didn’t count as willful deprivation.) (Ronan disagreed.)

“Gotcha.” Adam didn’t bother opening his suitcase, instead going through Ronan’s drawers and taking a pair of sweatpants and the t-shirt from his EMT training program. He did it partially because Ronan’s clothes were generally just a little big for him, and therefore extra comfy, but also because he knew Ronan liked it; sure enough, he caught Ronan smiling, half his face smushed into the pillow. “Well, I’m gonna eat something. Do you want me to like, not eat in front of you?”

Shaking his head, Ronan got up and went over to Adam, slipping a hand under his shirt and pressing it against Adam’s low back. “Doesn’t matter to me.” He buried his face into Adam’s neck. “Don’t want to waste the time I have you here.”

Adam smiled, kissing Ronan’s head. “As much as I love it when you’re cuddly like this—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” After kissing Adam just below his ear, Ronan gently spun him around by the shoulders and gave him a little push toward the door. 

It felt weird, to say the least, cooking himself eggs and making toast and coffee while Ronan just sat at the table and watched, but Ronan really didn’t seem to mind. He just chatted away, telling Adam about his clinical placement—he was currently on the Labor and Delivery floor, trying to get the necessary number of births to meet his program’s requirements—and about how he was thinking of keeping chickens. They relocated to the porch while Adam finished his coffee, Ronan’s feet in his lap; Adam traced a finger around the bones of his ankles. He felt warm, and not just from the midday sun.

They hadn’t made plans for the day—plans were for when Ronan visited Adam, with so much of the city yet to explore, but trips to Virginia were for relaxing—so they bounced between neatening up the house and kissing against whatever surface was closest. Declan and Matthew would be arriving on Saturday for dinner and the Easter Vigil, staying at the Barns overnight, and then heading back to DC after morning Mass and lunch. Adam would be going with them, flying out of Reagan and getting back to Boston that evening; he had only two more weeks of classes, and then a week or finals, and then he’d be back home for the summer.

Adam was ironing the damask tablecloth that had belonged to Niall’s mother (and trying not to stress about handling something so precious) when Ronan spoke up from where he lay on the couch. “I think that’s everything,” he said, tossing the notepad he’d been using to make a grocery list onto the coffee table, “We should probably go shopping on the early side tomorrow, because it’ll definitely be busy later.”

“We could go today, if you think it’ll be better,” Adam suggested, not looking up from the ironing board. 

“Eh. I actually think I might go lie down for a little bit.”

Something was off about Ronan’s tone—Adam couldn’t quite place it, but it got him to pay attention. “You okay?”

“Just tired.” 

With a pointed look at the couch, Adam said, “I just want to point out that you’re already lying down.”

Ronan gave him the finger as he stood up. “Smartass. I meant in bed and you know it.” He smiled at Adam. Something about it didn’t look right. “Join me?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done with this. You go on ahead.”

Adam expected Ronan to turn, leave the living room, and go upstairs to their bedroom.

Instead, Ronan took about two steps, paused, and collapsed onto the rug.

It took Adam’s brain a few seconds to switch gears; he’d been so engrossed in the ironing and his fear of somehow ruining it that it didn’t immediately register that there was now a more critical task. Somehow having the wherewithal to turn off the iron before setting it on the board, he rushed over to Ronan and dropped to his knees. “Shit—Ronan, wake up.”

Ronan was almost entirely face-down, wedged between the coffee table and the couch. After shoving the table back a few feet and sending a stack of magazines flying in the process, Adam put his hands on Ronan’s shoulder and hip and proceeded to roll him onto his back. Ronan must have struck his face on the edge of the table; there was a rapidly-purpling linear indentation on his right cheek, but by some miracle he wasn’t bleeding. Thumping his hand on Ronan’s chest a few times, Adam pleaded, “Come on, wake up wake up wake up.”

Telling him to wake up wasn’t going to do anything, Adam realized, and he reached into his back pocket for his phone. Of course, said phone wasn’t there—he didn’t need it when he was home, so it was probably lost in their bed or on a table somewhere. He didn’t want to leave Ronan, but he would need to if he wanted to help him. 

He was halfway to his feet, legs trembling, when he saw Ronan’s eyelids flutter, and Adam dropped back to his knees. “Ro, hey, honey, can you hear me?”

Clearly working hard to keep his eyes open, Ronan nodded. “‘m okay.”

Adam took a deep breath, as much air as his chest would allow, and let it out all at once. “Oh my god.” He pressed his palm to Ronan’s cheek and leaned in to kiss his forehead. He was pale and clammy, but he was alive. “What happened?”

“I, uh—I don’t—” Ronan blinked a few times, brows together as if he were deep in thought. “My vision kind of—” he waved a hand in front of his eyes. “I feel okay now, though, just like, tired.”

“Well, you look fucking awful.” Reaching over Ronan to the couch, Adam grabbed a pillow and slid it under his head. He needed to get ice for that bruise. He needed to find his phone. He needed to be able to do _something_ but everything was a jumble and he didn’t know where to start. “I’m gonna get you some water.” 

He half-expected Ronan to argue, but he didn’t, which was maybe even more concerning. Instead, Ronan just nodded and closed his eyes. Adam stood and almost ran to the kitchen, filling a glass from the tap and finding his phone on the counter. He returned to his place at Ronan’s side and set the glass next to him. “Think you can sit up?”

Ronan tried to push himself upright, but couldn’t seem to get his arms to follow through, so Adam put an arm behind his back and helped him up. After a second in the new position, though, Ronan slumped backward; Adam caught him, lowering his head onto the pillow. 

“Shit. Ronan!” Adam shook him by the shoulder; this time Ronan opened his eyes almost immediately, unfocused but awake. “Okay, new plan. I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No. No, I’ll be fine.”

Adam reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “You can’t sit up without passing out; you’re not fine.”

“Just...give me a minute. Please.” Ronan just looked so _tired_. “Let me try to drink first.”

With one hand, Adam tilted Ronan’s head up just enough that he could take a few sips; he held the glass because Ronan was shaking too much to do it himself. “Let’s see how that sits,” Adam said, letting Ronan lie back and smoothing a hand over his head. “I’m gonna get something for your cheek, yeah?”

“What happened to my…” Ronan lifted a hand and brought it to his face, wincing as soon as he touched the angry-looking area. “Motherfucker.”

“Yeah.” Adam planted a foot on the ground and went to stand, pausing to poke a finger into Ronan’s chest. “Don’t fucking move, you hear me?”

Ronan nodded, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, although it didn’t do much, the skin still dry after. “Not going anywhere.”

There was an actual ice pack buried somewhere in the freezer, but Adam wasn’t about to unload the whole damn thing to find it, so he grabbed the first bag of frozen vegetables he saw. “Still doing okay?” he called, getting a clean dish towel out of the drawer and wrapping it around the...okra? Not as good as a bag of peas, but it would have to do. Ronan didn’t reply, and Adam went back toward the living room. “Ronan, I swear to god—”

“Sorry, I—” As far as things Ronan could be apologizing for, spilling water all over himself and the rug was probably the best option. He looked a combination of embarrassed, exhausted, and cold, rubbing at his shirt as if that would do anything to dry it.

Adam knelt beside him, sighing. “You’re killing me here.” Ronan shrugged. “Let’s get you out of this before you freeze.” Undressing someone who was basically dead weight wasn’t easy and Adam gave up after a few attempts, covering Ronan with the blanket from the couch instead. He pressed the bag of okra to Ronan’s cheek, apologizing as the other sucked in a hissing breath at the contact. “That’s gonna look real ugly tomorrow.”

“I’ve shown up to Mass with worse.” Ronan gave a weak smile that did absolutely nothing to reassure Adam. “Sorry for scaring you.”

With an almost-laugh, Adam shook his head. “Don’t fucking apologize.” He started to fish under the blanket for Ronan’s hand, then stopped. “Are you hurt anywhere else? I got caught up on your face, but…”

“I’m okay. My neck’s starting to bug me in this position, though—I’m gonna try to sit up again.” He looked to Adam for approval; against his better judgement, Adam nodded and shifted positions to help him—anything to keep Ronan from hurting.

This time, Ronan managed to get upright enough to rest against the couch before things went south. He didn’t tip over like before, but he leaned forward, squeezing his eyes shut and drawing his knees up to his chest. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said through clenched teeth. 

“What?”

“Hang on, hang on.” He waved a hand at Adam, resting his head on his knees and taking a deep breath. After what felt like a minute but was probably just a few seconds, he exhaled. “Thought I was gonna throw up for a second.”

“Dizzy?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. My head’s fucking killing me now.” He clutched the back of his head with one hand, fingers clawing into the skin. Adam could see him shaking.

“Alright, it’s ER time.” Adam took out his phone; Ronan looked up and tried to take it from his hands. “I’m not just gonna sit here and fuck around and hope things get better. And no, I’m not gonna fucking drive you because there’s no way you can even get to the car.”

Ronan let go of Adam’s phone. “Fine.”

Thank fucking Christ. Adam had never actually called 911 before, he realized when the dispatcher picked up. They asked a lot more questions than he expected, about Ronan’s speech and his face and if he was bleeding, finally saying that they were sending over an ambulance. 

“I’m sorry,” Ronan whispered. 

“If you apologize one more time—”

“You don’t have to come with me—I can just let you know when I—”

“What?” Adam squinted at Ronan. He must have hit his head harder than Adam thought. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I come with you?”

Closing his eyes, Ronan replied, “They’re gonna take me to the hospital in Henrietta.”

“And?”

“It’s where you…”

Adam shook his head. “Is that what all this was about?” He leaned in and kissed Ronan’s forehead, feather-light, not wanting to make anything worse but needing to kiss him nevertheless. “I’ll be fine. I can deal with a little PTSD better than I can deal with sitting around here while you’re in the ER.”

Ronan laughed, really laughed, his eyes still closed. “‘A little PTSD.’ You’re a piece of work, Parrish.”

“I’m getting better, you know.” Adam picked up the makeshift ice pack from the ground and shook it, trying to get the thawed vegetables out of the way of the still-frozen ones. Pressing it back to Ronan’s cheek, he went on, “I went in for that follow-up after winter break, remember?”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that.”

“I scheduled a physical, too. I wasn’t going to tell you in case I chickened out.”

Now Ronan looked at Adam. “Come here,” he said, and Adam tilted his head in question. “I wanna kiss you.” Adam leaned closer; Ronan put a hand on the side of Adam’s face and brought their lips together. “I’m so proud of you.”

It hadn’t been easy, for sure. After almost having a panic attack in the waiting room and another in the exam room at his visit to Health Service before winter break, he’d asked Willa to come with him to the follow-up visit because he knew that he wouldn’t go otherwise. Adam hadn’t given details beyond ‘I don’t like doctors’ and Willa hadn’t pressed, something for which he was incredibly grateful. When he mentioned not seeing a doctor since high school, the NP had gently suggested that he get a checkup—three years was a long time, she said, and the college years were a good time to make sure people were on track for a healthy adulthood. He’d picked the latest possible date in the semester, giving himself a few months to mentally prepare. Once he left the health center, feeling a mix of relief and dread, Willa had looped her arm through his and marched him to J.P. Licks for ice cream even though it was eighteen degrees out.

Resting their foreheads together, Adam smiled. “Thank you.” He kissed Ronan again. “I’m gonna go pack a few things, okay? Just like, a shirt that isn’t wet and your wallet.”

“Phone chargers,” Ronan added. “Hopefully we won’t be there for too long, but…”

“Okay.” Adam stood. “And I am deeply, severely begging you to stay fucking put.”

“Promise. Like, actually this time.”

By the time Adam had thrown probably too much stuff into his backpack and gone back down to Ronan, the ambulance was pulling up the driveway, followed by a fire truck. Adam opened the front door and led the EMTs or paramedics or whatever over to Ronan, who was clearly doing his best to look not-sick, sitting as upright as possible and giving a little wave when they arrived. They took his blood pressure, stuck some wires on his chest, pricked his finger and put a drop of blood into a handheld device. Ronan explained what happened. Adam stayed off to the side, clenching and releasing his fist, nails digging into his palm.

The paramedics—Adam remembered Ronan explaining the difference, and the heart monitor was one of those higher-than-EMT-level skills—helped lift Ronan from the ground onto what looked like a lawn chair with wheels and buckled him in. “This is only a little embarrassing,” Ronan muttered.

“Better than cracking your head open trying to walk down the steps,” one of the medics said, starting to wheel him backwards toward the door. Adam grabbed his backpack and followed, only a little terrified when the medic and a firefighter carried Ronan down from the porch. He watched as they transferred Ronan to the stretcher and loaded him in the truck, one of the medics hopping in behind him.

“Do I—” Adam pointed to the back of the truck, and the other medic shook her head.

“You gotta ride up front with me,” she said, walking him to the passenger side door. “Safer that way.”

While he didn’t like not being able to see Ronan, Adam was at least comforted by the fact that he could hear him talking with the medic in back, pointing out where his best vein was and asking about the kind of heart monitor they were using. Their voices were drowned out by the sound of the engine once they started toward the hospital, and more so by the sirens once they got to the more populated roads, but every now and then Adam would catch Ronan laughing, and even though it wasn’t as bright or as loud as usual, it was still something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “At least wait until I’m out of the ER before you try to dick me down, alright?”
> 
> Of course, because the universe was just like that sometimes, it was at that precise moment that the nurse came in with Ronan’s discharge paperwork. Ronan turned bright red, everywhere visible from the neckline of his shirt upward, and Adam covered his mouth with one hand, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

At the hospital, Adam followed the stretcher in, finally getting to talk with Ronan while they waited behind another stretcher. “You feelin’ any better?” Adam asked, looking up at the IV bag.

Ronan nodded, and truth be told, he did look a little more like himself now. Tilting his head toward the medic who’d been taking care of him, he replied, “Yeah. He gave me some Zofran so I don’t feel like I’m gonna puke anymore.”

“Good.” Adam pressed a kiss to his fingers, then touched them to Ronan’s uninjured cheek.

Turning so that his lips were against Adam’s fingers now, Ronan murmured, “Are you doing okay?”

When Adam felt himself turning red, he wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of being  _ known _ and  _ loved _ or from embarrassment of being asked that by the person actually having the medical emergency, but he smiled nevertheless. “Yeah, honey,” he said, bringing his hand down from Ronan’s face, “I’m alright.”

When the nurse directed the stretcher in front of them down the hall, it was Ronan’s turn to get his vitals taken and and soon enough, the medics were wheeling him into a room and helping him onto the other bed. A nurse came in, the medics left, a doctor came and went, the nurse hooked Ronan up to a new bag of fluids, someone came to do another EKG and draw blood—there were a lot of moving parts, Adam discovered, and his job was to stay out of the way when others were there and get as close as possible to Ronan when they weren’t.

“We should probably let your brothers know.” Adam said after everyone had left; it would be a little while before the bloodwork came back, so Ronan had curled up on his side so that he could try to sleep off the headache. Adam gestured to his face. “Don’t want them showing up to find you looking like this.”

Ronan shrugged. “I guess. Can you text Matthew? Not Declan, though, he’ll be pissed.”

If it were anyone else, the idea of being angry with someone for passing out wouldn’t make sense, but this was Declan and Ronan they were talking about. “Sure.”

**_  
Hey—FYI, Ronan passed out from not eating/drinking today  
_ ** **_We’re at the ER, but he’s fine, just a little banged up  
_ ** **_Just didn’t want you to be surprised_ **   


**!!!!!!!!  
** **Omg  
** **Tell him I’m glad he’s okay  
** **Let me ask Declan if we can head down earlier tomorrow**

  
He read the text aloud to Ronan, making a high-pitched humming sound for the exclamation points; Ronan laughed and shook his head. “Taking bets for how long it takes him to jump on me like a puppy.”

“Oh, immediately,” Adam replied without a second thought. “He’s gonna make Declan take them down early  _ specifically _ so that he can jump on you and make sure you’re okay.”

“Like one of those videos where a soldier comes back from their deployment and their dog just loses it.” He took out his phone and pulled up Youtube, but after a few seconds of adjusting the brightness on his screen, he gave up and set it next to him on the mattress. Even with what was definitely a concussion, it was still good to see Ronan joking around.

Around the two-hour mark of their visit, Ronan’s nurse came in to recheck his vital signs, and Adam took the opportunity to get himself something to eat from the vending machines in the lobby—nothing like a four-pack of Oreos and a Coke for dinner. The waiting area looked different than he remembered it, although to be fair, he’d barely been able to stay upright the last time, his newly-deaf ear throwing him off balance. How long had it been? He counted back on his fingers—freshman summer, senior summer, junior summer. Three goddamn years. He wondered if any of the staff remembered him. It was surprisingly okay to think about, to be in this room. Maybe he was doing better than he thought.

The front desk person had just let him back into the patient care section when Adam got a text from Declan.

  
**Just to clarify—Ronan hasn’t had /anything/ at all today?**

**_  
Yeah, he’s fasting  
_ ** **_I thought you and Matthew did it too  
  
_ **

**Oh, we do.  
** **We’ll be there around noon tomorrow.  
** **Take care.**

  
Would it kill Declan to like, ask about how Ronan was doing? Probably. Adam stuck his phone back in his pocket, shaking his head. 

He arrived in Ronan’s room just as the doctor was leaving. Past the curtain, Ronan was digging through Adam’s backpack, tugging on the t-shirt that Adam had stuffed in. “They’re sending me home,” he said as the shirt came free; Adam came over and helped him pull it on without disturbing the disconnected IV still in his arm. “They’re not too worried—said I should take it easy for a few days and follow up with my primary care doc.”

“But, like, your heart’s okay? And your head?”

“You seem to think my head is pretty good,” Ronan smirked as Adam smacked his upper arm.

“Asshole. You’re in the goddamn ER making fucking blowjob jokes.” He couldn’t help but smile.

Taking Adam’s hand and bringing it to his lips, Ronan continued with a more serious tone, “To answer your question, though, yes: a little concussed, heart looks good, just a straightforward syncopal episode with a clear cause.” He paused. “Fainting episode, sorry—”

“I pieced that one together.” Medicine was Ronan’s language; when Adam had been in the room the first time the doctor came in, he kept getting lost, the others throwing around words that he didn’t know or even recognize. He’d had to look up ‘orthostatic hypotension’ on his phone (not an unreasonable thing not to know) and Ronan had to explain that ‘normal sinus rhythm’ on the EKG had absolutely nothing to do with the face-sinuses (he’d waited until the tech left the room before he asked because it  _ felt _ like a dumb question, even though Ronan assured him it wasn’t).

“How are  _ you  _ doing, mister ‘a little PTSD never hurt anyone’?” Even though he was looking to Adam for a reply, Ronan was picking at the adhesive around his IV now; it was clearly taking all of his willpower to wait for the nurse to come take it out for him.

After taking a few seconds for an emotional inventory, Adam slowly nodded. “I’m...okay. Surprisingly okay.”

“Good.” Ronan was looking at him with such fondness, maybe even pride; Adam had to glance away. After a beat, Ronan said, “Spot me while I put my pants on?”

“Aw,” Adam said, pouting, “I really like this look, though.” If they’d been at home, Adam would probably be trying to get Ronan to undress—between his t-shirt and boxer briefs (neither leaving much to the imagination), he was a vision in black, framed by the pale skin of his muscled legs and strong arms.

Throwing his jeans at Adam, Ronan laughed. “You’re fucking insatiable, Parrish.”

“What?” Adam grinned. “I’m not wrong!”

“At least wait until I’m out of the ER before you try to dick me down, alright?”

Of course, because the universe was just like that sometimes, it was at that precise moment that the nurse came in with Ronan’s discharge paperwork. Ronan turned bright red, everywhere visible from the neckline of his shirt upward, and Adam covered his mouth with one hand, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing. The nurse glanced between them with a bemused look, one eyebrow raised, but nevertheless went right into Ronan’s discharge instructions. Rest, eat well, drink well, over the counter painkillers—all straightforward stuff. After taking out his IV and taping a piece of gauze in its place, she left them to finish preparing to leave, telling them the best way back to the garage and where they could validate their parking.

Ronan looked at Adam. Adam looked at Ronan.

“I came with you in the ambulance,” Adam said, starting to giggle nervously, “Why didn’t we think of how we were going to get home?”

“I guess we can call a cab?”

“Ronan.” Adam stared at his boyfriend. “Have you ever seen a cab in Henrietta? It’ll have to come from, I don’t know—”

Waving a hand as if erasing a board, Ronan shook his head. “Okay, okay—do you have a better idea?”

Opening his mouth to speak, Adam paused, thinking. “Actually,” he said, taking out his phone, “I do.”  
  


* * *

  
“You boys are like cockroaches, you know?” Calla said, slamming the passenger seat of 300 Fox Way’s sedan and stomping over to the bench where Ronan and Adam were waiting. “I can’t seem to get rid of you, no matter how hard I try.”

Maura stood on the other side of the car, her arms folded on the roof. “I needed a navigator,” she apologized, gesturing to Calla, who was now squatting in front of Ronan.

“Nice work.” Calla touched Ronan’s jaw, tilting his head so that she could inspect his cheek. “Who won?”

“The coffee table,” Adam deadpanned, and Ronan elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow.”

When Calla laughed, it was almost a cackle; Ronan visibly winced. Shaking her head, she stood and swept her arm toward the car. “Alright, let’s get going, kiddo.”

In spite of her comments about having better things to do on a Friday night, Calla insisted on having Ronan sit up front and helping him recline the seat (the handle was a little finicky, she explained as she used what seemed like her whole body weight to wrench it up). She sat behind Maura, reading out directions, so that Adam could be behind Ronan, reaching one hand over his shoulder, their fingers laced. Maura talked quietly with Adam about school and work and Blue and Gansey and Mr. Gray, their conversation trailing off when Ronan fell asleep, snoring softly.

When they pulled up at the Barns, Maura turned to Ronan and gently touched his shoulder. “We’re here,” she said, and when he gasped awake, looking around, she ran his hand over his upper arm. “You’re alright,” she murmured, “You’re safe. Adam’s right behind you. You’re home.”

Ronan caught his breath, and from the backseat, Adam leaned forward so that he could rest his palm on Ronan’s chest. It was impossible to know what went on in Ronan’s head when he slept—he’d been sleeping better recently, but every now and then he’d still wake up like this, panicky and shaking. Adam may have mentioned it to Maura; clearly, she remembered, briefly making eye contact with Adam as Ronan relaxed. He imagined that a concussion wouldn’t be good for sleep and dreams and nightmares in general, but for now, he just needed for Ronan to be safely in bed. 

Everyone went inside, with Calla and Adam escorting Ronan upstairs (even though he protested the need for supervision) while Maura rounded up a few necessities from downstairs, water and Tylenol and some snacks. Once everything was settled, hugs were exchanged and cheeks were kissed and Calla threatened Ronan with dire consequences if he didn’t listen to Adam, and then the house was quiet again. 

Ronan fell asleep, fully clothed, on the bed; Adam covered him with a blanket from downstairs and held him close. Even though Ronan managed to sleep through the night, Adam woke every few hours, chest tight, calming down only after feeling Ronan’s chest expand with every breath, heartbeat strong under his palm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my God, Ronan, your face!” Matthew exclaimed immediately as he took a step toward the bed, but Declan swung an arm out to stop him.
> 
> “No. He doesn’t get sympathy for being a dumbass.”
> 
> Taken aback, Adam snapped his head to look at Declan. “Are you fucking serious?”

Even though Ronan’s face looked worse in the morning, with the bruise on his cheek spreading toward his mouth and a new one now visible on his forehead, he was doing better overall. Adam still insisted on staying with him on the stairs, but his gait was steady as he navigated the obstacle course in the living room, avoiding the ironing board, displaced coffee table, and abandoned bag of okra on the floor. The carpet was still wet in places. 

It was nice to have a lazy morning, in spite of the circumstances; they had breakfast on the couch, sitting at opposite ends, legs entangled under the blanket, and then Adam studied his psych notes out loud while Ronan alternated paying attention and dozing off. It was a little after noon when Ronan decided that he’d be more comfortable in bed; the sun was hurting his eyes and it was impossible to make the living room dark enough for him. Once they got upstairs, though, he realized that it had been a day and a half since he’d had a shower. The doctor in the ER had specifically mentioned hot showers as a common trigger for fainting episodes, so Adam filled the bath and got in beside Ronan.

“Is this helping?” Adam asked, working his thumbs against the muscles at the base of Ronan’s neck; whoever warned him that it might hurt more the next day was absolutely correct.

Ronan nodded, humming in reply. “If you keep going, I might fall asleep.”

“Please don’t.” Leaning closer, Adam kissed Ronan’s shoulder. “I’d rather not add drowning to the weekend’s activities.” He didn’t lift his lips from Ronan’s skin as he went on, “Speaking of the weekend--I can see about rescheduling some things so I could stay an extra day, if you want?”

“Absolutely not,” Ronan said, turning to look at Adam, “You’ve got shit to do.”

“But what if you need something, or if you black out again?”

This time, Ronan leaned in to kiss Adam, pressing his lips to the other’s forehead. “Firstly, I’m gonna actually eat and drink and take care of myself so it doesn’t happen again. Secondly, there are like a dozen people at Fox Way who can give me a hand.”

“Promise to actually ask for help if you need it?”

“Yes.” He sat back and found Adam’s hand with his own in the water. “Promise not to worry too much?”

Adam smirked. “I’m not making promises I can’t keep.”

“Fair.” Squeezing Adam’s hand and then letting go, Ronan shivered and rubbed at his upper arms. “Alright, I’m getting cold. Help me up?” 

They rinsed off and Ronan dressed in pajamas--he insisted that he wasn’t going to fall asleep, but that he wanted to be as comfortable as possible. Adam, not yet at the point where he felt comfortable being dressed for bed in front of Declan and Matthew, put on a pair of Ronan’s jeans and a t-shirt, which was a put-together yet comfortable look. For someone who wasn’t going to go to sleep, Ronan was awfully cuddly, sitting with his side pressed to Adam’s, resting his head on the other’s shoulder as Adam worked on a statistics problem set on his computer with the brightness turned way down.

Ronan was definitely asleep when Adam heard the front door open, followed by Matthew’s unmistakably loud footfalls coming up the stairs. Shaking Ronan as gently as possible to wake him, Adam got out of bed to intercept the other Lynches in the hall. He gave a hushed warning that Ronan was fine, but still not great, and that it would be _hugely_ appreciated if they would keep the volume to a minimum. Matthew nodded solemnly; Declan didn’t respond; Adam took a breath and opened the bedroom door.

“Oh my God, Ronan, your face!” Matthew exclaimed immediately as he took a step toward the bed, but Declan swung an arm out to stop him.

“No. He doesn’t get sympathy for being a dumbass.”

Taken aback, Adam snapped his head to look at Declan. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah, Dec, go easy on me, I’m damaged goods.” Ronan stayed relaxed against the pillows, but still managed to look sarcastic, his lip turned up in a half-smile.

Declan shook his head. “Does Adam know how fasting is supposed to work? Because if you don’t tell him, I will.” 

By this point in their relationship, Adam had gotten used to the wordless ways that Declan and Ronan could argue. He saw Ronan’s jaw working, lips pressed in a tight line, while Declan stared back, eyes furious. When Ronan didn’t say anything after a long few seconds, Declan went on. “Fasting in the Catholic Church doesn’t mean that you don’t eat anything at all.”

“So what does it—”

Holding up one finger, Declan said, “One normal meal,” he held up two fingers, “and two snacks, essentially, that combine to less than one meal. That’s what the Church considers fasting.”

“Okay...” Adam turned to Ronan, who was now pointedly avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Also, Adam, fun fact, there’s no rules about drinking; technically, you can even drink alcohol! And—get this—you’re actually _not supposed_ to fast if it would be medically dangerous.” Declan threw his hands in the air. “Which, maybe, I don’t know, includes someone who’s almost blacked out more times than I can fucking count!”

No one said anything, and Declan lowered his arms, then took a deep, slow breath. “I’ll be in my room until I can even think of looking at you without committing murder.”

After he turned and went down the hall, Matthew was left in the doorway, looking unfazed by the entire thing. “Sorry about him,” he said, now taking the opportunity to hop onto the foot of Ronan’s bed. “How are you doing?”

Ronan shrugged. “I was doing okay until _somebody_ came in and _yelled_ at me, ignoring the fact that I have a _head injury_.” He raised his voice at the important parts, as if Declan would hear (or care) from his room down the hall. “Shit,” he muttered after, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut. “Could one of you get the Tylenol, actually?”

“I got it.” Matthew scooted to the edge of the bed, but Adam waved him off.

“No, I can do it—I brought it downstairs and I’m not sure where I left it.” He leaned over and kissed Ronan’s temple. “Need anything else?”

Keeping his eyes closed, Ronan replied, “Refill my water?”

“Of course.” As Adam headed downstairs, Ronan’s glass in hand, he caught Matthew’s excited voice immediately followed by Ronan trying to get him to speak just a little quieter; apparently none of the Lynches could talk at a normal volume. When he got to the living room, he found the Tylenol on the coffee table next to the abandoned grocery shopping list from the day before--they’d agreed that Matthew and Declan could cook or they’d just get takeout. Picking up the pill bottle, Adam went to the kitchen but stopped short when he saw Declan seated at the table, head in his hands, a tumbler of some amber alcohol beside him. Adam walked past him and filled Ronan’s glass at the sink, then turned around and waited, expressionless.

“I, uh—” Declan stopped, ruffling his fingers through his hair, still looking down at the floor. “There’s no way I come out of this looking like the good guy, is there?”

Adam leaned back against the kitchen counter, tilting the bottle of Tylenol back and forth, listening to the pills clack together. “There really isn’t.”

Shaking his head, Declan lifted his head to face Adam. He didn’t look like the same person who’d shouted at Ronan minutes before. “This used to happen to our dad.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And like, whatever, people pass out sometimes, no big deal, I guess.” Declan shrugged, then took a deep breath and blew it out through tight lips. “But it happened again, and again, and then it happened when he was working on the roof, and that was it.”

Right. Fuck, of course. “But Ronan’s never—well, at least not that I—” Well, there had been that time that Ronan had gotten dizzy and needed to sit after graduation, but in his defense, they’d just kissed for the first time and Adam had felt a little off-balance himself.

Declan huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m sure he’d tell you if you weren’t there to see it. I remember--maybe starting in early high school; he’d get a stomach bug or spend all day outside or something, complain about being dizzy, maybe have to grab onto something, kind of half-fall, but then he’d cool off or drink something or whatever and he’d be fine.” 

“But all it takes is one at the wrong time,” Adam said Declan’s point aloud. The top of the stairs. Making a fire. On a ladder.

“Exactly.” Rubbing a hand over his face, Declan looked so much older than twenty-two. “So yeah, I think I’m allowed to get a little pissed off when he does shit like this.”

Adam couldn’t exactly argue. He’d thought that Ronan’s self-destructive tendencies had mostly gone away, but maybe some vestiges remained, disguised as religious obligation instead of drinking and racing. “Maybe next time, at least mention that you’re glad he’s okay.”

Without waiting for a reply, Adam headed back upstairs, still turning the bottle around and listening to the click-click-clicking of a miniature avalanche. It was always interesting, having Declan and Matthew visit, because that’s what it was--a visit. But Adam _lived_ here, just as much as Ronan did. He didn’t need to be polite and suck it up when Declan was an asshole because this was _his home_ and Declan was a guest. He did need to behave himself enough that the ride to DC would be bearable, but that was almost twenty-four hours away and besides, it was impossible to have silence (awkward or otherwise) when Matthew was there.

When Adam stepped into the bedroom doorway, Ronan smiled and beckoned with one hand for him to come in. “Heard you two talking downstairs—everything okay?”

Adam snorted out a laugh. “I figured I’d get sent to like, double hell if I killed someone on—” he faltered, “Good Weekend or Saturday—”

“Holy Saturday,” Matthew corrected as he climbed off the bed. “I’m gonna go find something to eat. You want anything?” Ronan and Adam both shook their heads; it had taken Adam calling out different things from the pantry for five minutes before Ronan found something he could tolerate, but he’d been doing a decent job of eating since getting home from the hospital. Matthew flashed a thumbs up and left, thumping down the hall toward the stairs.

Finally alone—it felt like it had been way more than the half-hour that Matthew and Declan had been there— Adam sat sideways on the bed, legs hanging over the edge, and set the glass of water on the bedside table. “Babe.” He traced his knuckle down the side of Ronan’s jaw, gently turning his head to face him. “You gonna tell me what Declan was going on about?”

Taking a deep breath, Ronan almost laughed. “It sounds stupid, now that I’m—” he gestured toward his cheek.

“You’ve done a lot of stupid stuff that’s gotten you more hurt than this.”

“Fair.” He sighed. “It’s just, doing what Declan said...it feels like cheating.” Adam tilted this head in question. “Like, that’s about how much I eat if I have a busy shift or if I get caught up doing stuff around the house. So what’s the point of doing something to reflect on a sacrifice if it doesn’t feel like you’re giving anything up?”

Adam nodded, even though he didn’t quite get it. “So you want to make sure you’re suffering enough? That’s like...a caricature of Catholicism. But also on brand for you.”

“Okay, you’re making it sound extra crazy when you put it like that.” Ronan nudged Adam’s shoulder with a fist, smiling. “But kind of.”

After climbing onto the bed—sitting to the side wasn’t close enough—and straddling Ronan, Adam kissed his forehead. “I don’t get it, but I get you. However. I would prefer that you don’t rope me into your suffering next time.” Laughing, Ronan nodded, and Adam went on. “I was doing some reading while you were resting earlier, by the way—apparently Jesus got to have some wine on a sponge, so like—”

“Pretty sure I would have been significantly worse off yesterday if the only thing I had was wine.” 

“Well, you’re certainly not getting any today.”

Ronan stuck out his tongue, looking disgusted. “Bleh. The last thing I want right now is a drink.”

“Poor thing.” Adam leaned in and kissed Ronan, letting their foreheads rest together after. “Should I let you relax until dinner?”

God, Ronan looked beautiful, even with a bruise spanning his cheek, even with discomfort wrinkling his forehead. “Just until my head’s feeling a little better. Speaking of which,” he held out his hand, “give me the good shit.”

In his haste to think about anything but Declan, Adam had completely forgotten about the purpose of his trip downstairs. Popping the cap off the bottle of Tylenol, he shook out two tablets and handed them to Ronan, then passed him the glass of water. After taking the medication, Ronan kept the glass, swirling it around for a few seconds before looking up.

“You’re really good at taking care of me, you know?” Ronan kept talking even after Adam blushed, “Like, from the start—I remember waking up and seeing you and feeling like, ‘yeah, he knows what he’s doing.’”

Adam laughed. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I started Googling first aid classes as soon as you fell asleep in the ER.” His smile fell away as he took a shuddering breath. “What if happens again, but you get really hurt or don’t wake up or--”

“I won’t let it.”

Declan’s words from before echoed in Adam’s mind as Ronan made a promise he couldn’t keep. 

“Get some sleep,” Adam said, effectively ending the conversation, “Text me when you’re ready to come down, okay?”

“Will do, doc.” Ronan winked and pulled Adam in for one more kiss, then handed off his water glass and scooted down so that he was lying on his side, facing Adam. “Love you.”

Adam had only taken a step toward the door when his chest started to burn, tears pricking at his eyes. It made sense that everything was going to catch up to him, and he supposed that it was better that it happen now, rather than when he was in the car to DC. He stopped, turned around, and carefully climbed into bed next to Ronan, holding him from behind and pressing his face against his shoulder.

“Change your mind?” Ronan mumbled, already sounding half-asleep; Adam pressed a kiss near the base of his neck. He didn’t trust himself to speak just yet, and he knew Ronan wouldn’t make him. Ronan rolled onto his back and tugged at Adam until his head was against Ronan’s chest. “You should rest, too,” he murmured, starting to comb his fingers through Adam’s hair, “You definitely didn’t get enough sleep last night, and Mass isn’t gonna get out until at least ten.”

Adam nodded, putting an arm over Ronan’s chest and squeezing him close. “Wake me up when it’s time to see the grown-up baby Jesus come back from the dead.”

Laughing, Ronan kissed the top of Adam’s head. “Now you’re making it sound weirder than it is.” He lowered his voice, starting to massage Adam’s scalp. “Close your eyes--I’ve got you.”

Adam slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next week will be fluffier (and feature the gangsey!)
> 
> (also, me last week: hey maybe ronan and declan can have a functional relationship. me, this week: yeah that's gonna take some time)
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at the same username :)


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